


Honor

by Alethia



Series: Starting to Finish [10]
Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: Awards Presentation, Episode Related, F/M, Hotels, Lectures, Swimming Pools, Travel, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-14
Updated: 2005-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Congratulations! You have been selected to receive the Southern Association of Forensic Scientists Regional Award. Your award will be presented to you at the 57th Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences, to be held in Atlanta, Georgia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honor

**Author's Note:**

> Uses the events of 2.06 "Hurricane Anthony," so there are several references to that case. Technically, the 57th Annual AAFS meeting wasn’t until late February of 2005 and took place in New Orleans. But the presentation titles are all real. Originally posted on LJ [here](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/123120.html).

“Hey, what’s this?” Eric asked, picking up the very official-looking letter. The seal in the corner was a dead-giveaway; he’d know the insignia of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences anywhere.

Calleigh tried to brush it off, waving it away and reaching for the paper. “Well, it’s definitely not the striation comparison you wanted.”

Eric held the letter out of her reach and grinned at her, acceding that yes, he was being nosy. And no, he wasn’t gonna stop.

He was particularly interested in the part where it said “Congratulations.”

“Congratulations.”

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Thank you.” Ever polite, yes she was.

He cocked his head and grinned, a little more ruefully this time. “Actually, that was more a restatement of this,” he waved the letter pointedly, “than an offer of praise. But now you’ve got me curious. Why are we congratulating you?”

“No reason.”

“Uh-huh.”

“May I please have my letter back?” Wow, using the politeness now. This had to be good.

“I think not.” He looked at the letter more closely, noticing phrases like “ground-breaking” and “significant addition to the field.” Eric glanced back up at Calleigh, still trying to display practiced nonchalance, but there was _something_ going on underneath. 

“It’s nothing,” she said, a little too quickly.

“You’re getting the regional award?” Okay, the disbelief in his tone probably wasn’t helping with things like self-confidence and wasn’t earning him any points but…

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Calleigh, this is the most prestigious award they can give anyone in the Southern Association of Forensic Scientists. It _is_ a big deal.”

She finally snapped and just snatched the letter out of his hand. “Stop making such a fuss.”

“Fuss?” Eric was incredulous. “If I’d won I’d be shouting it from the rooftop.”

“You’re not allowed on the rooftop.” But there was a hint of a smile there, and that only ever meant Good Things. Especially if she was joking with him.

“I think they’d make an exception. This once.”

“I think you think too highly of yourself.”

He grinned and nodded the point. But she was trying to distract him. “So, it’s at the annual meeting?”

“No.”

“It’s not at the annual meeting?”

“No, I mean, it is. But no, you can’t go.”

“Okay, there were a lot of ‘no’s’ and things that rhymed with ‘no’ in there…”

“Eric, you are not allowed to attend the 57th Annual AAFS meeting and especially not because of some silly award you mistakenly think is important.”

“Gosh, then it’s such a shame that I’ve already accepted their invitation.”

***

“I can’t believe you’d planned to go to the meeting.”

Okay, well if she was gonna get technical about it…it was time to distract her. “Why wouldn’t I go?”

“Because you make fun of these things? Because it means taking time off work? Because…I don’t know, just because.”

He grinned. She’d been picking at him all day, from when he picked her up to go to the airport, through their entire experience with the oh-so-efficient TSA, through the line to get coffee, past the lovely-looking Delta flight attendants and now all the way into their cramped, made-for-miniature-people seats in coach. 

Eric had already gotten some smiles from old motherly types who were probably thinking how precious he and Calleigh were and how patient he was.

Damn right he was. But only because he knew it was nerves. And just below the surface Calleigh really was suspicious.

Good investigative skills there.

He just shook his head kindly at her and tweaked her nose in a move he knew would get her all fluffed up. “I needed the CERP hours.”

“You did not.”

“Sure I did. I always need Continuing Education credits. I’m irresponsible, remember?”

Now she was actually _bristling_ in her seat. Oh, this was too good to be real. “Very convenient, Eric.”

Hmm, noncommittal was best: “Life has a funny way of working out.”

And it was a really good thing they were seated in the row of double seats. He’d feel bad if anyone else had to sit next to the two of them. Besides, he kinda liked the idea of having Calleigh squished between him and what they pretended was a wall. Made certain things far more difficult to do…things like Calleigh running away.

Well, he did have a whole three days with her now. It wasn’t like she could run away from the conference. Okay, technically she could, but Eric doubted she’d risk her professional reputation to prove a point. Besides, he didn’t plan on doing anything to outrageously piss her off.

“And how are you sitting next to me, anyway?”

“I called and changed my seating arrangement. Wouldn’t want you to get lonely.” He winked, for effect of course, and she had the audacity not to react. That was no fun.

“And how’d you manage that? Flirt with the airline representative.”

“Maybe just a little. Forgive me?”

“I can’t imagine why you’d think I would have anything to say about those with whom you do or do not flirt.”

He snorted. “Uh-huh.”

***

There was a sharp knock at his door, despite the fact that it had just barely closed a moment before. Hell, it was hard to believe she even waited this long.

He swung it open with a grin. “Hi.”

“Going a little far, Eric.”

He pasted on an inquisitive expression and waited for the lecture, moving back so she could do it in the privacy of his room rather than the hallway. Who knew who could be wandering around? Egotistical and far too competitive criminalists, overzealous behavioral psychologists…it did take a scary kind of brain to understand psychopaths after all.

“Coming with? I’m suspicious, but okay. Adjacent seats? Now adjacent rooms?” She pointed through the wall in the general direction of her room. Eric grinned, unrepentant. It had taken some work and a lot of luck to pull that off. Such a shame she couldn’t appreciate its beauty.

“But the flowers? And gift basket? That’s going too far.” 

Okay, huh?

“Huh?”

“Flowers. Gift basket. Room, Eric. Did you forget that part of your little plot?”

“No, I think I’d remember that. Did they come with a card?” He couldn’t help but say it slowly, inject some inquisitive obviousness into his tone. He’d gladly take responsibility for what he did do, but what he didn’t? And when Calleigh thought he did? So time to have some fun with her.

She eyed him narrowly for a moment, before curtly excusing herself. Eric trailed after, shaking his head and trying not to laugh. Hell, why hadn’t he thought of that? Such a masterful stroke.

But, wait, who the hell was sending Calleigh flowers?

Calleigh didn’t even object when he followed her into her room, past those doors that he swore were plastic and man, how he’d love to take some samples and _prove_ it. She easily found a card in the flower arrangement—a mix of whites and yellows, elegant in a detached kind of way. 

At least they weren’t red.

“Secret admirer?” he asked, only half-joking.

“It’s from SAFS congratulating me on my award and my significant achievement.” She said the last with implied air quotes behind it, so he guessed that was part of the message. He just nodded and took a good look at her room.

“Hey, nice room.”

She looked over, incredulous, blonde hair swirling with her exasperation. “It’s the same as yours.”

“But it’s all reversed. I think I like it better.” He definitely liked her hair better like this. She’d been wearing it up too much lately. Maybe he could mention—

“You’re impossible.”

“Well, I try. Women like the air of mystery, didn’t you know?” He pulled his shoulders back and put on a mock-seductive look, perfect for all those old thirties movies.

“Oh, yeah? Trying to impress the girls?” Faint impression of seriousness under the careful amusement and she so wasn’t fooling anybody.

“Maybe one,” he answered the real question bluntly, looking straight at her and refusing to equivocate. The brief tightening at the corners of her eyes let him know she read him loud and clear, not that he could get much of a response from her body language. He really hated it that she’d been playing it so stiff and distant recently.

“Eric…” _Not_ a good tone of voice. Interruption time.

“Ready for the welcome reception?” Obviously not, but it kept her from going where he couldn’t pull her back and he didn’t really care that it was obvious in everything—tone, stance, his facial expressions. As long as it stopped her from breaking anything, he was perfectly okay with being obvious.

She took a minute to answer, visibly running through something, before she shrugged it off: “Yeah, Eric. I was going to wear sweats that say ‘juicy’ on the butt.” 

He let himself relax, shoulders unclenching, laughing at both the attempt at humor and the fact it meant she wasn’t gonna press. This time. “I dunno. It might be fun to watch all the old guys huff with righteous indignation.”

She dropped her makeup case from where she’d started unpacking, stuck a hand on her hip and just _looked_ at him.

“On second thought, probably not.” Bunch of old guys staring at Calleigh’s ass all night? Not the most fun time he could imagine.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“So,” he clapped his hands together casually, annoyed at his fidgeting and oddly unable to do anything about it, “What are you wearing?”

Wow, that didn’t sound like a cheesy come-on _at all_. Eric winced internally as Calleigh looked at him with naked amusement in her eyes.

She was _enjoying_ his discomfort…and he couldn’t really blame her.

“I’m just gonna go get changed.” Practically tripping over himself to get to the door, but something made him stop. Turn back.

If it were him… _he_ would want to hear it.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?”

All lightness evaporated in an instant, replaced with something _hungry_ and hopeful, before a wall shut her right off. Couldn’t have been more than a blink but those were the moments that kept him up at night.

“Go get ready, Eric,” she said, low and ignoring what he’d said. Didn’t matter. At least she’d _heard_ it. And that was the point.

***

Eric remembered why he hated these things; he was always stuck in a social situation with the most painfully inept socializers on the planet. Really, there was a _reason_ most people became scientists. You know, so they _wouldn’t_ have to talk to a lot of people or mill around in large groups.

Thankfully there was alcohol. For them, not for him.

Though curiously, it didn’t seem to be helping. Calleigh actually seemed appreciative that he’d glued himself to her side, engaging in polite conversation with everyone who wanted to meet the woman who’d won the only regional award being presented.

_So_ surprising that the large majority of those people seemed to be of the male persuasion, interested in the little blonde girl in their midst.

It didn’t help that she seemed to be the most _interesting_ thing around. Unsurprising, what with that bland speech from the President of the AAFS. Eric couldn’t remember what he’d said and the man had practically just left the podium.

He’d be so disappointed to hear that, Eric was sure.

He tuned back in to make sure he wasn’t missing anything—

“It is so _delightful_ to have such young, innovative thinkers in the field. I was most impressed with your article, most impressed.”

—and nope, not missing much. Such a shock.

Calleigh smiled graciously even if he could practically feel her discomfort, just underneath her skin and _intense_. But damn did she look good—hair still down and slightly wavy, black dress something casual and conservative but still clinging in enough places to catch one’s eye, heels that made her only slightly taller than knee-high to a grasshopper. No wonder the vultures were circling.

There was a lull in the approaches and Calleigh turned to him with a smile that more closely resembled the real thing. “Fascinating, isn’t it?”

He snorted and looked around at all the PhDs talking about PhDy things, before turning back to look his disbelief at her.

“Of course I could tell just from your expression. That glazed stupor has been so very convincing.” She smiled impishly and nodded at people as they walked toward the refreshments.

“So it hadn’t crossed over to the good-God-kill-me-now look? Wow, I’m a better actor than I thought.”

She merely smiled and shook her head as he took her _glass of punch_ and refilled it like the gentleman he was.

“It does raise a few questions, though.” Goading was the very best way to get a response, well did he know, and he wasn’t above using it.

“Like?” Oh, and he had all her attention now. But did he want it, especially when she was watching him so carefully and the lights above them were making her hair shine and shine and—

Yeah. Probably time to respond.

“Like, why are you still here?” He put a hand on her elbow and moved her away from the table, guiding both of them to an empty space of wall where with any kind of luck they’d blend in and not be noticed.

She pulled away from the contact as quickly as she politely could, keeping a safe distance between them and oh, wow, he didn’t expect it to sting _quite_ that much. Because he _did_ expect it.

Gotta keep up appearances, of course.

“An honored guest skipping out on the proceedings? Eric, I’m shocked.” There was mocking there, yes. Definitely stress and patience wearing thin. Maybe irony? Annoyance? Something else he couldn’t quite—

“Miss Duquesne! I thought I saw you around here. Congratulations on this wonderful achievement. I always thought—”

Eric tuned the man out. Just another professor-type come to say hello. Nothing to write home about and nothing to pay too much attention to.

Calleigh dispatched him with practiced ease and if he didn’t know how much she disliked being in the spotlight he’d assume she was born to it.

“You’re good at this.”

“Unfortunately.” And a straight answer…there was something different. He focused on her again—shoulders visibly tense, smile cracking at the edge—oh, yeah. She was done.

He took her glass and set it on a side table, looking for the nearest exit. 

“Hungry?” he asked, ushering her out without trying to be too obvious about it. Or too overprotective.

And, man, the grateful look he got for that was something to see. And something he normally wouldn’t because Calleigh hated to be handled. She must be _really_ gone, then.

“Starved.”

***

“Room service is a great invention.”

She smiled as she speared a piece of chicken with her fork and waved it at him. “And it really qualifies as an invention, too. Such a task to think up bringing food to patrons’ doors. Right up there with radioactive carbon dating.”

“Well I certainly get more use out of it than radioactive carbon dating,” he smirked back, stealing a piece of broccoli off her plate. She swatted at him good-naturedly and he just waggled his eyebrows and did it again.

Already she looked more relaxed, a comfortable sprawl across the bed, close enough that he could feel the air shift when she moved. 

She finally finished the last of her chicken with a satisfied—and highly distracting—moan and he got up to put their plates back on the tray, using the movement to take his mind off…other things.

The carpet was scratchy against his feet as he left the tray outside the door, coming back to the sight of Calleigh still splayed across the bed in that black dress that was draping so very nicely—

Right. And now things could get weird.

She looked over, curiosity burning behind those eyes, and he grinned conspiratorially, settling his hands on his hips and looking at her frankly.

“What do you wanna bet there’s an episode of _Law and Order_ on right now?”

Her laugh echoed and she even made more room for him on the bed when he climbed in.

Life was good.

***

Something was on his arm. Something _heavy_ was on his arm and he might never be able to use it again. He would go through the rest of his life without the use of his arm and that was gonna make his job so much harder. As if he needed that.

Or, he could still be partially asleep.

He groaned and shifted, breathing in—

A scent suspiciously like Calleigh’s. Opened his eyes to a blonde blur, pulled back…and still Calleigh.

Hmm. Interesting.

The heaviness was, in fact, Calleigh sleeping curled on top of his arm. One of them. The other was innocently tucked around her waist and holding her close, nose pressed against his chest, hands closed limply around his shirt. Sleeping and still and really warm against him.

He closed his eyes and leaned back down, nuzzling her hair and breathing her in again—

Oh. Probably not such a good plan, that. But she was already shifting, climbing her way back to consciousness, moving against him.

“Eric,” she sighed, small and high and he so wouldn’t have heard it but for the stillness of the room. Nor would he have felt her immediately tense as full consciousness finally crashed into her.

Pulling away from him on a shock was something cold, but at least he had his arm back. Flexed it experimentally, shooting tingles already flowing through him. Ow. He shook his arm again and clenched a fist, only looking up because of the very careful silence on the other side of the bed.

They’d left the curtains open, so it was all early morning light with Calleigh drenched in it, hair mussed and still somehow managing to look _good_.

“Morning,” he said, non-threatening as he could, because from the look on Calleigh’s face she wouldn’t have broken the silence anytime soon.

A hand to her hair a telling gesture—discomfort, confusion, and probably even some embarrassment there. So very Calleigh.

“We—we must have fallen asleep.” Yes, that would be why the lights were on, the TV still muted, both of them still in the clothes they wore to the welcome reception. Not that he would point that out.

And, God, the way she was _looking_ at him. Like he was something new and she’d gotten the jolt of her life, all jumbled up in the war taking place behind her eyes.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “What time is it?”

Checking the clock distracted her a bit, normalized things, took her mind off the fact that she was rumpled and creased and not five minutes previous she had been curled up with him in her bed.

Actually, that thought wasn’t reassuring him too well either because, damn, she really looked good in the morning. He knew she would—she couldn’t not—but, but this was just a tease. And an unfair one at that.

“Six-thirty.”

Eric nodded and sat up, stretching out his shoulders like he wasn’t aware of all the scrutiny. “Good. We’ll still make breakfast. See you in twenty-five?”

Calleigh nodded, still looking at him like something else, with some major wheels turning where he couldn’t see. He felt her eyes glued to him as he left, closing the door softly behind him.

He slumped against it when she couldn’t see, breathing out a sigh into the hallway. And man he must look a sight—barefoot, clothes rumpled, looking exactly what he knew he did and wished it were at all true.

And damn, he’d left his shoes _and_ jacket. He’d have to get them…sometime. He certainly wasn’t going in there now. Not when his hands were already shaking so badly that he had to try his key card three times before the damned door would open.

He didn’t even bother with getting out new clothes. His were littering the floor of his bathroom in an instant and he was sliding under the water a bare minute later. The thought that Calleigh was doing the _exact same thing_ …really didn’t help matters.

Eric groaned in frustration, cursing his traitorous thoughts, before giving in to the inevitable. Getting off to thoughts of Calleigh was becoming something of a morning ritual and it didn’t help any that he knew exactly how she tasted, smelled—

Slumped boneless against the tile he let himself breathe in the steam, mind wiped blissfully blank. Rinsing off was familiar enough and going through the rest of his routine required zero thought, so he just let the fog float him through it all.

Straight to Calleigh’s door.

At exactly six-fifty-five he knocked, unsurprised when it opened immediately. He smiled normally—because this was exactly like any other day, of course—and checked her out.

Work clothes—tan pants that looked really good on her, button-down black blouse. Sans coat, but they weren’t on the job so it was to be expected.

“You look great.” Smiled again because there was still a trace of wariness about her and she nodded her thanks.

Awkward silence. Oh, how he loathed that.

The vague notion flitted through his brain that _this_ was why you left before the morning after. So there was no awkwardness like—this.

Which didn’t apply because hello, there had been no sex. He was pretty sure he’d remember that. It was totally unfair to have the morning-after awkwardness when there’d been no night before. Not really, anyway.

He and Calleigh, well, they just broke all the rules. Even the totally logical, sex-related ones. Disheartening didn’t even begin to cover it.

Time to move on, then.

“So our mini- _Law and Order_ marathon? I’m thinking that’ll give us a head start on this morning’s breakfast topic.”

She shook her head—she really hadn’t expected that one—and the corners of her lips twitched. “Oh? How’s that?”

He held up his oh-so-useful itinerary and pointed. “This morning’s topic: ‘Follywood- Forensic Fakes or Real Cases: How Movies Manipulate Forensic Truth.’”

Her appreciative smile significantly lightened his mood.

***

Eric hadn’t seen her all day. After breakfast she was whisked away to her criminalistics sessions while he went to the toxicology ones. It kind of annoyed him, even if he had to go to excuse the fact that he was here. And even if it was interesting.

It was with an acute sense of relief that he met up with her for lunch, seeing that she seemed to have blown right past their earlier—thing.

“Hey,” he said, grinning at how relaxed she looked. Ah, what wonders a few solid hours with gun junkies could do.

“Hey, how’s everything in the land of toxicology?” she asked with a smile, friendly but not too friendly.

“Good. They had a couple good presentations.”

“Oh, yeah? On what?”

He raised an eyebrow at the interest, but didn’t comment. “Using mass liquid chromatography and time-of-flight mass spectrometry to screen for drugs in overdose cases. Trace detection of opiates using capillary electrophoresis. That kind of thing. You?”

She shrugged. “Good information, but mine aren’t as focused as yours. Criminalistics covers a lot. They talked about DNA extraction mostly.” Measured pause. “I particularly liked the one about lubricants and their effect on DNA evidence taken from condoms.”

“How risqué,” he deadpanned, holding her gaze until neither could take it and they both collapsed into laughter.

“And I always thought these things were so boring,” Eric said, shaking his head.

“Mmm, you should have been in there with me for the condom one. Rollicking good time.”

“I think I’ll take your word for that one. Lunch?”

“Yeah, but it has to be quick. I don’t want to miss the session on comparative bullet lead analysis.”

“No, no. We can’t have that.”

***

Calleigh was—fidgeting. 

Well, not fidgeting, exactly, but…something. The Calleigh-specific version of nervous, not that anyone who didn’t know her very, very well would be able to see it. It was broadcasted in the line of her jaw, the way she was holding her head, her too-smooth movements.

Calleigh was graceful but this was—this was _practiced_ grace. It wasn’t organic and it pinged in Eric’s head immediately.

Followed closely by the thought that damn, did she look hot. _Damn_.

And it wasn’t one thing. It was the fall of her hair, the more intense make-up, the less conservative but no less appropriate black dress. She was—ethereal, breathtaking, incomparable, all those things and more.

She was nervous. And they were still in her hotel room.

He padded in in socked feet and smiled appreciatively, letting his gaze linger. “You look unbelievable.”

Quick puff of air out and she smiled, not relieved but still—something. “Thanks. You do, too. Your shoes…” With that she trailed off and he grinned, letting it go. 

“Yeah, thanks.” He sat on the bed and quickly slipped into them, Calleigh’s gaze prickling awareness all along the line of his body. Yeah, he looked good and he knew it. He was pretty good at filling out a black suit. Mostly it was for her benefit and it satisfied him that she noticed, even if she wasn’t too open about that fact.

Black and black. They were going to match so well.

Actually, he probably shouldn’t mention that. She could take it the wrong way.

Finally done he stood and straightened his clothing reflexively, noticing again that something roiling beneath the surface. 

“Nervous?” he asked, lightly and with no recrimination behind it.

She smiled and shook her head ruefully. “I was just thinking how much easier it’d be to be a guy.”

At his raised eyebrow she swung her foot out, accentuating the strappy heel she wore. “More comfortable shoes and one pair for everything.”

He laughed, letting her set the tone, and nodded. “Yeah, well. I didn’t want to check any luggage. Might as well have with the monster of a suitcase you brought. Besides, you know men love shoes like that.”

“Of course. It’s all about making you fall all over yourselves. Not that it takes that much effort.” Said with a sly glance in his direction and he just shot her a knowing look. “And I was so lucky I had a big strong man with me to save me from carrying it myself,” she said, sarcasm dripping off every word. 

Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have tried to do the gentlemanly thing at the airport.

Ah, well. He had hits and misses. Hopefully he was accumulating more of the former these days. But he really never knew.

“Ready to go?”

She nodded, pulling back her shoulders in a move akin to a soldier going off to battle. He let a wry smile flit across her face before grabbing her hand, stopping her from opening the door. “Hey.”

She turned to look, a strange kind of hesitance there. He pulled her closer, arm around her waist, and briefly rested his forehead against hers. He pulled back to look at her, one hand cupping her jaw, soothing his voice: “It’s no big deal, remember? You look beautiful and you’re gonna go up there, accept your award, and make every man in that room wish he were me.”

That last part got a roll of her eyes and a half-smile, which was actually pretty good.

“Oh, and what’s so special about you?” she asked pointedly, pressing against him quickly before pulling out of his hold and opening the door. 

He clicked off the lights as he left, blinking at the sudden darkness. “C’mon…who else has this face? This mix of earnest altar-boy and pure sex-appeal.”

She snorted like she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “I’ve seen prettier.”

“Aw, now you’re just playing me.”

“You keep thinking that,” she said, reassuringly patting his arm.

He grinned. At least she wasn’t fidgeting.

***

“You were brilliant.”

“Yes, I managed not to trip over my own feet. Quite a feat of intellectual prowess on my part.” Calleigh could do self-deprecating like nobody’s business and it was out in full-force. She probably felt like an idiot for being a little nervous about standing up in front of all those people.

The plan was to take her mind off it and the fact that she was giving a presentation tomorrow.

“I totally agree. And I’m hungry.” 

Calleigh blinked at the abrupt change of subject and slowed her pace, smiling knowingly. “Men,” she said on a sigh, looking to the ceiling like it would be giving her some answers. 

“Incorrigible, aren’t we?” 

“I don’t know why we put up with you. Besides the obvious,” she amended.

“Well, the obvious can be kind of fun. Or so I hear,” he said, winking exaggeratedly.

“Because you’re so deprived,” she shot back, dry as dry could be, moving faster now, and in the direction of the restaurant.

“I so am. It’s a tragic state of affairs.” At her speculative look, he moved past it. “But, not so tragic as the state of my stomach which, if it had a voice—though sadly it does not—would be loudly protesting its abuse.”

“Yes, yes, you’re hungry. I think I heard about that somewhere.”

“It’s being broadcast on CNN at this point.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want an incident, would we?”

“That’s what I’m saying. So. Dinner?” She looked at the entrance to the restaurant pointedly, exasperation written all over her face. But there was affection there, so nothing to worry about.

She stopped walking.

Not good. Not in the plan. He really was hungry. That meeting had seemed to go on _forever_.

“And then we can go to the ABC ice cream party,” she said sweetly, and what was that? Striking some kind of deal?

Eric hung his head mournfully. “You _hate_ me.”

“No, but you do deserve something for that deprived comment.”

“You could tie me up and spank me,” he suggested, joking. Mostly.

She turned toward the restaurant and slanted a side glance at him, glint of amusement making her eyes shine. “Now there’s a suggestion. I can’t imagine how it never even occurred to me.”

“That’s what I’m here for. I’m an idea man, what can I say?”

“Well Mr. Idea Man, I’m sure you can think up something to say to the ABC guys.”

“Yeah, sure, we can talk about the best places to hide my body after I _die of boredom_.”

“See, now, there’s the spirit.”

Eric sighed as Calleigh smiled at the hostess and asked for a table. Well, at least he wouldn’t be hungry.

***

“Now I know we’re landlocked, but I thought we might partake of that small approximation of our natural habitat.”

Blank look. Nada. Nothing there. 

“Swimming pool,” he elaborated.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I was momentarily distracted by your highly impressive vocabulary.”

Eric narrowed his eyes and glared at her. “Don’t blame me if those twelve statisticians I was stuck talking to started to rub off in some very unfortunate ways.”

“Hmm, and I didn’t notice any stains as we were leaving.”

Eric paused, mouth open, and totally lost what he was planning to say. “Okay, that’s just gross.”

“I do my best.”

“But back to my point.”

She leaned against the open door, tilting her head up. “Hmm, I might have missed it,” she said, bringing her hand up to affect serious contemplation of the matter.

“Yes, while you were admiring me. It’s quite understandable.” He nodded in understanding, using the doe eyes to great effect it would seem.

“Of course.”

“So yes. Swimming pool. All statisticians should be safely tucked away as it is eleven o’clock and far past their bed-time.”

“Well, as long as I’m assured of my safekeeping, away from any rogue statisticians, I’m sure I can arrange for an expedition out to the swimming pool.” Okay, was that a yes?

She looked at him expectantly and…he was gonna go with an affirmative on that one. “Meet you in five?”

“Watch me beat you to it.”

He grinned and saluted, quickly entering his own room and changing without preamble. Didn’t even bother to hang his suit up or anything. And there was no way Calleigh would be as imprecise so—

She was tapping her foot and waiting for him just outside his door. That was so not fair.

“You cheated.”

She cocked her head to the side, blonde hair falling across one cheek in a way that made him want to lay down and _beg_. “I don’t think it’s possible to cheat in this case.” 

“You’ve discovered a way.”

“Because I’m crafty like that,” she agreed conspiratorially.

“You even got a piece of paper today to prove it,” he said, petulant. But. This was not a wise use of his time because he could be admiring Calleigh.

Really, where were his priorities?

And…Calleigh. Black bathing suit, covered up modestly by a towel and moving off down the hall. He trailed after automatically. Hmm.

“Is everything you own black or white?” he asked when he caught up with her at the elevator.

“Yep. I have my own personal shopper who is contractually barred from offering me anything with any kind of color,” she answered, stepping in and looking at him expectantly.

Oh, right. There was more to getting to the pool than staring at Calleigh’s bathing-suit clad body. “Technically, white is comprised of all colors,” he pointed out.

“Well, now you’ve shot a hole in my dastardly plan of world domination. Whatever shall I do?” she asked, stepping out of the elevator and looking back with a coy smile.

“Eh, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

They wandered out to where the pool should be and yep. He was so good. “Oh, look at that. No one here.”

“But is it statistically significant?” she asked, coquettish and fluttering her eyelashes.

“You. Suck. You just can’t admit it. Who was right? Eric was right.”

“Eric is speaking in the third person. Should Calleigh be worried about Eric?” she asked, mock concerned and slowly teasing that towel from around her hips.

“Hmm?” he asked vaguely.

“Guess not,” she answered herself, shaking her head as she tossed her towel onto one of the chaise lounges, neatly diving into the water.

And Eric’s brain was somewhere…back there. It’d catch up with him. Eventually. Now he was just content to drop his own towel next to Calleigh’s, dive in, and enjoy the scenery.

It was warmer than he expected. Calleigh was treading water with a small smile when he surfaced, cocking her head at him in appraisal. And, _damn_. He was thinking that a lot, but Calleigh wet? Seriously one of the better things in his life.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Innocent so obviously she should not be trusted.

“I don’t believe you.” He swam out after her but she kept moving out of his path, keeping a standard distance between them, her smile only getting sharper as time went on.

“Oh, so it’s gonna be like that, is it?”

He caught sight of her brief grin before he took off in earnest, using muscles long-trained to do just this. She was good, using her smaller size to slip by him a couple times, hand grazing her thigh, but nothing made up for speed in the end. He trapped her against the edge of the pool just before the six foot marker, breathing deep and relishing his triumph.

“I will have you know I had my eye on the Olympics once.”

Calleigh gripped his arms on either side of her and used that hold to float. “You never told me that,” she said, seeming genuinely interested.

Eric shrugged, bouncing a little in the water. “It was a long time ago.” He moved one of his hands over, fingers tangling in her hair, feeling her breath painting a hot stripe along his inner arm.

“Is your hair gonna be green in the morning?”

She shook her head, distracted, fingers moving every so slightly along his forearm. “I brought some shampoo with me.”

“Always be prepared,” he murmured, moving in closer.

“Well, I was never a Boy Scout, but I hear they had some useful sayings.” Her voice had dropped and her fingers were now clutching at his arm in some kind of death-grip. Not that she needed it to stay afloat; he was so close now he was holding her up himself.

“Calleigh…” he whispered, low and heated, running a finger along her ear, underneath her jaw.

Her eyes flickered and suddenly she was pressed fully against him, mouth meeting his in a heated tangle, arms going around his shoulders and gripping hard.

Eric knew he made an unidentifiable sound into her mouth…and didn’t really care. She was warm and moving against him, legs wrapping around his hips and shit, that was way too much for his brain to handle.

He concentrated on exploring her mouth, tongue dipping in to taste her, ice cream and chlorine and what he already knew was Calleigh. He hitched her up and pressed her higher against the edge of the pool, breaking the kiss, mouth trailing down her throat to lap at a collarbone, his hand running down her thigh and pulling her closer.

She squirmed against him again and he moved his mouth back to her lips, catching her gasp as his fingers trailed across the arch of a foot, exploring her mouth again like he had all the time in the world. 

Probably wasn’t true, but if he was gonna do it he would do it _right_.

Her head fell back on another gasp and she took a long and shaky breath as he nipped at her jaw. “Eric,” another gasp and that time he got a shudder to go with it. Oh, this could get so addictive. “Eric…probably not the best idea.”

“Are you kidding?” he asked, incredulous. “Best idea I’ve ever had.”

She laughed breathlessly and pulled her hands away from his shoulders, getting them behind her and on the concrete, using them to pull herself up and out of the pool. Eric let her slip through his fingers, all slick silky skin.

Calleigh sat on the edge of the pool, catching her breath, one foot running up and down his chest in a move that wasn’t soothing at _all_.

God, Calleigh had to be the most reticent person in the whole damn world. What was it going to take for her to trust that he wasn’t going to up and disappear?

“It’s getting late. We should go back,” she managed, once she’d recovered herself. 

He nodded and grabbed her foot, rolling his thumbs up either side of her ankle, going higher, making her foot flex in his hand and a little sound of pleasure escape her throat.

She quickly pulled her foot up and stood, going over to their towels. Eric followed her out, feeling the chill of the air after the warmth of the water, accepting his offered towel with thanks and a smile. She seemed to relax a bit at that, ringing out her hair and tucking the towel safely around her for the walk back upstairs.

Neither of them said anything until they were at her door and he would have, but for the fingers warmly pressing against his lips.

“Not tonight, okay?” she asked, pleaded, quietly. He breathed out, kissed her fingers whisper-soft, and nodded. She didn’t look back as she closed her door.

Going to his own room was like—going to a place he’d never been before. It only then occurred to him how little time he’d spent in his room, preferring Calleigh’s, what with Calleigh being there and all.

Eric let his towel and trunks go the way of his suit and started the shower, stepping in mindlessly and turning to let the spray settle over him. He groaned when the heat of it finally registered, dropping his head and cursing the fact that his day began and ended the same damn way…

Toweling dry it occurred to him that it really shouldn’t. There was nothing to blame himself for this time, nothing had gone catastrophically wrong, it just—hadn’t been the night. He could so live with that.

But he didn’t want Calleigh forming her own version of what happened, what he was thinking, etc. They’d probably go back to the same old holding pattern—again—and he really didn’t think he could handle that. Not that he’d been so good with handling it all those other times. But he wasn’t thinking about that.

So what was he going to _do_ about it?

Symbols. Symbols were important and he had the perfect one.

If it were anyone else he would have felt weird knocking at her door at one in the morning. He so didn’t. There was no way Calleigh was asleep.

She opened the door wide, like she already knew who it was, and sighed when she saw him.

“Eric—”

He held up a hand, pointing to his other. “I’m not saying a word. I just brought popcorn and myself.”

She sighed again, but there was exasperation there, too. And that meant amusement and Calleigh shaking her head? In this case it was a _good_ thing.

“Come in. But only because you brought me popcorn.”

He walked in, teasing her lightly. “And you were so desultory about my stomach. Tsk.”

She smiled and shut the door.

***

There was ringing. And vibrating. Annoying ringing and vibrating and he was gonna kill the ringing. Just as soon as he could find it. His hand groped for the nightstand and hit on something buzzing. Bingo. Now he just had to kill it.

The less foggy part of his brain recognized it as a phone and that it might be important. So opening the phone was probably the best plan. And it had the added benefit of stopping both the ringing and the vibrating and all homicidal urges.

Really, it was a brilliant idea.

“Delko.”

Slight pause. “Eric,” drawled out slowly, in only that way H could.

“Morning H,” he said fuzzily, nestling back against Calleigh. Calleigh, who still smelled really good. Like soap and shampoo and maybe a trace of salt from last night.

“Eric…” Oh yeah, he was talking to someone.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked, head clearing by the second and something tightening in his gut, instincts telling him something was Not Right. This despite the fact that he woke up in Calleigh’s bed. Obviously it had to be something _really_ wrong.

Slight rustling and Calleigh was coming around, the most adorable sleepy sigh escaping her as she rolled onto her back. Eric let his hand linger on her stomach, admiring the picture she made in her pjs, blonde hair spread out all over.

“Eric—” And how many times had H said his name, anyway? What was this like the five thousandth time? And why was H calling him?

Calling. Him.

_Shit_.

“Eric, I was looking for…Calleigh.” Carefully neutral and shit. He was _so screwed_.

“Um, yeah. She’s here.” He nudged Calleigh with his knee, sitting up and dodging the hand she sent flying his way. “Just a second, H.”

He covered the phone and nudged her again. “Calleigh,” whisper-loud and Horatio really couldn’t hear…and what did it matter anyway?

“What?” she asked, annoyed.

“Horatio wants to talk to you.”

There was a moment of pure calm, just before she stiffened in a way that couldn’t be healthy and bolted upright.

“You answered my phone?” she hissed, something not entirely controlled raging in her eyes.

“I was asleep. I thought it was mine.” And God, how defensive he sounded.

She sighed and rubbed at her eyes, putting her hand out for it. He carefully handed it over without touching her and retreated to the headboard, arms resting on his knees.

“Morning Horatio. Yes. It was done right before I left. It’s in the top left-hand drawer. Yes. Okay. I’ll see you soon.” She clicked the phone shut and looked at it for a while, seeming to forget he was there.

“Well. That sucked.”

“Very eloquent, Eric,” she sighed, rubbing at her face again, sunlight streaming through the tangled curls of her hair. “God, I’m tired.”

He sighed with her and sank back down next to her, still careful not to touch. And, she wasn’t throwing him out or anything, so that was good?

Calleigh looked at the phone again, shook her head, and laughed. “He wanted to know where a report was. What are the chances?”

Eric shrugged and didn’t answer. She was taking this far too well.

She shook her head again and smiled wanly. “I suppose he had to find out sometime.”

Eric blinked. “Actually, I think he already knew.”

She raised an eyebrow that encouraged him to explain: “He said something to me once, obliquely. You know H. No judgment, all support. He didn’t seem to see it as a problem.”

“Can’t ask for more than that,” she said, oddly meditative about the whole thing.

Okay. Who abducted Calleigh and replaced her with a pod person?

And if only there were something to support what H was thinking right now.

Calleigh levered herself, brushing the hair out of her face and straightening her pajamas. And heh. She still looked cute.

“Well, in a way it’s a good thing he called,” she said suddenly. “This way we won’t miss breakfast. What was the topic again?” she asked, walking over to the closet to get out some clothes.

“‘Bacon, Eggs, and Arsenic,’” he answered carefully. She looked back at him, bewildered, and he relaxed with a grin. “I swear I’m not lying.”

“With all the fun of Follywood yesterday…I believe you.”

***

“When’s your presentation?” He’d snuck out to find her on break, just to check. Because it’d be really bad if he missed it.

“Why?”

“Just—when is it?”

“Why?” Calleigh gave him that look that said she’d push it, she’d be insistent, and so he caved.

Gracefully, if he was anyone to judge. “I just—wanted to see it.”

She gave him A Look. “What? I’ve been hearing about this article for three days and you wouldn’t let me read it before you sent it out. I’m curious.”

“Eric, you helped me solve the case.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m sure you made it all sound much more impressive and scientific.”

“As opposed to…”

“As opposed to you and me making fantastic guesses about what happened?”

“Hey, those guesses have withstood over a year of critical peer review and _still_ hold true.”

“I never said they were bad guesses. More like brilliant ones.”

“Yeah, you better keep saying that.”

“So?”

“So, what?” She was getting exasperated now and it was, wow, it was really cute. Everything she did was really cute. He was so gone. It was disgusting. He was officially one of Those Guys. They’d be picking out monogrammed towels any minute now.

Actually, if they did get married she could still use her old towels.

And whoa. Mental stop because he did _not_ need to be thinking in terms of changing names and rings and permanence when she wouldn’t even touch him in public. Willingly.

“When is your presentation?”

“Oh. That. It’s at one in the Lido room.”

“Thank you. I’ll be the madly proud one grinning in the back row.”

She rounded on him, narrowing her eyes dangerously. “Don’t you even think of asking half-assed questions from the back row.”

He put on a practiced air of innocence, waving his bottled water around. “Would I do that?”

“Eric…” Definite warning there.

“Calleigh. All I want to do is sit in the back and enjoy the scene as you get praised and lauded by all your colleagues.”

She looked ready to protest, but without a clear direction, she couldn’t really. “Fine. But no making trouble.”

“Cross my heart—”

“Don’t finish that.”

“Anything for you, Oh Fair One.”

***

The presentation went well. Really well, if the extended applause and utter lack of questions were anything to go by.

Calleigh grinned—grinned for God’s sake and on a normal day she could give _Mr. Spock_ a run for his money in the stoicism department—and accepted the praise with a pleased nod.

Eric could honestly say he’d done his part in contributing to the applause and he didn’t even care that people had been shooting him knowing looks all throughout the session. Hopefully Calleigh hadn’t noticed that, either.

And there was something just so hot about Calleigh going on about bullet trajectories and wind speeds and Eric was well aware that he was just _gone_.

He sat very impatiently, waiting for Calleigh to make the rounds with all her peers, shaking hands and nodding and smiling. There seemed to be a contingent with whom she’d become friendly and it was fun to see her without all the tension she’d been carrying when she walked to the front of the room.

Finally—finally—she was done and raising an eyebrow at his seated form.

“Brilliance,” he said succinctly.

“Is that the only descriptor we’re using this weekend?” she asked, bite to her voice. But he could tell she was pleased, so he didn’t even register the barb.

“No, but it’s the most accurate.” He stood, moving closer, mindful of all the people murmuring and moving out the doors. Squeezing her hand was a brief thing, but he meant it and the flash in her eyes told him she appreciated the thought.

“I didn’t sound nervous?”

“Utterly poised,” he shot back, smiling at the people who greeted both of them as they walked along the hall. “And that comment about not leaving your bullets in a bucket in the backyard was funny.”

“I do try.”

They were alone getting on the elevator and Eric automatically pushed the button for their floor.

Calleigh broke the silence: “You didn’t really plan on going to this thing, did you?” Not so much a question as a conclusion and Eric turned to her and shrugged, leaving that as his answer.

She shook her head and placed a deliberate hand on his forearm. “I’m glad you came,” she said, sincerity shimmering in her eyes.

He clasped her hand and nodded. “Me, too.” 

Then the doors were opening and back to the public and Eric sighed when they reached their doors, reticent to have to leave. After this it was back to the real world and he just knew that things wouldn’t be this easy back home. Where people knew them and they worked together and there were fun things like department policy.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to miss your room. You never even slept there.”

He grinned mischievously. “Yeah, too bad. Could have saved some money.”

She cast a doubtful look at him, hair swinging, again put into one of those ponytails. Maybe he could hide… “Try explaining that one to Horatio.”

Eric snorted, shaking his head. “That might have been easier than the cell phone thing.”

“But so very lacking in melodrama.”

“True. Horatio’s life really needs some melodrama,” Eric said pointedly, parting with her to walk to his door and pick up bags he’d never even attempted to unpack.

***

They were again on a plane. So, obviously, Eric needed to bug Calleigh. It was now a tradition. Traditions could so be forged in one plane ride. 

“When we go back to work tomorrow, do you think I should declare my intentions or something?” he asked seriously.

“To Horatio?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“You sure?”

She rolled her eyes and shifted to face him better. “No, Eric, you do not need to declare your intentions in some misguided attempt at chivalry.”

“Oh, God, I won’t have to declare my intentions to your father, will I?”

She sighed and dropped her head dramatically. “Where has this declaring of intentions thing come from anyway?”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“Maybe if we were living in the eighteenth century. And besides, who says there’s anything to declare?”

“I do.”

“And what makes you think I’ll _let_ you have intentions about anything worth declaring?” she asked, haughty and beautiful and backlit by clear blue skies.

Eric took a minute to unscramble her statement—and grinned. “Please. This _is_ me we’re talking about.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. I’m in your sanctified presence.”

“Damn straight. Besides, you know you can’t resist me.” It might have been the giddiness that was making him so bold. That or the altitude. Eh, either one worked.

“I can always try.”

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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